


Wild Fantasies From An Anxious Mind

by Bluberrii_smoothiee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Gore, Depression, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluberrii_smoothiee/pseuds/Bluberrii_smoothiee
Summary: MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!!!!This book will contain graphic depictions of gore. It may also contain descriptions of abuse, disturbing thoughts or traumatic experiences.Keep yourself safe, ily all.-----Some personal experiences of mine with anxiety. Some aren't real and instead stem from very real fears of mine. Some of these things happened though. I've been holding onto them for a long time so I thought I'd write about it instead.Any art featured in the chapters is mine, including the cover art.@kinky_pancake on insta@BluberriiSmoothie on deviantart
Kudos: 2





	1. Teeth Rot

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the description yet I would recommend it, it contains a trigger warning for those of you who need it <3
> 
> Ive been struggling with intense anxiety for as long as i can remember. I deal with it the best i can but when i get worried about something my mind spirals into the worst possible scenarios, some even dive into absurdity. I wont update this consistently, only when I have the motivation or need to.

TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains mouth horror and graphic descriptions of gore.

——

——

You stand in front of the dirty mirror, your tired reflection stares back at you. You've just brushed your teeth, instead of wrapping up and heading to bed you lean towards the mirror and reach towards your canines. Theres a small speck of food stuck to one that your brushing failed to sweep away. But as you attempt to scrape it away your fingernail catches onto something. Theres a cavity forming in your canine, you pick at it in disbelief and the action makes your tooth sting with uncomfortable intensity. 

Beads of sweat start to form on your forehead. There's no one else you can blame for this. Your mother tells you that you drew the short straw in the strength of your teeth but you know that it's the years of unintended neglect towards yourself that did this. Your heart speeds up and you taste a familiar copper tang on your tongue. You taste it when you floss and it usually goes away quickly. This time is different, the taste is old and thick. It flows like honey. You bare your teeth at your reflection and watch in helpless terror as your teeth yellow and rot before your eyes. 

Your gums become raw and maroon with the dark tar-like blood gushing from between your teeth. Your legs become weak and tears prick at your eyes. You can't breathe, you try but the taste of thick blood goes with the fresh air and it makes your lungs feel dry and old. You cough and the clink of teeth against marble stabs your ears and sends fresh horror through your heart. 

You grasp at them and desperately try to cram them back into place. Choked cries escape your throat as the efforts send fresh stabs of pain through your jaw. You collapse to the floor, you cant bear to look at yourself. You're filthy. Disgusting.

But that didn't happen did it? You stand before the mirror, still picking at the hole in your tooth. When you stand straight and look into your eyes the dark circles stand out a bit more. Your hands tremble lightly. You should go to bed.


	2. Life Expectancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter will contain descriptions of death, transphobia/homophobia

Your preferred name. You're not sure if you want to keep it quite yet but it makes you happy. Your heart is overjoyed when you write it down as your name, even though your exaggerated hips and curves make it painfully obvious that you don't have a Y chromosome.

Behind the happiness it fills you with is something dark and frightening. 

Theres a knock at your door, you forgot you ordered something earlier. The man at the door smiles warmly when you answer.

"Gavin?"

"Yea, thats me! Is this my order?" You respond with a nervous shuffle of your feet.

The mans expression turns into a weird mixture of confused and disgusted.

"You're not Gavin." He responds in a flat, intimidating tone.

"I- yes I am... I'm Gavin. I'm not sure what you-"

Your words are cut short by the man throwing the package to the ground and lunging at you, his hands wrap around your throat as you both fall to the ground. The impact of your head on the pavement sends stars across your eyes and sends a deep ache through your head.

It's the least of your problems when you realize the man is crushing your throat. You've never felt such terror in your life, it claws through your body like a starved animal and sends you into an adrenaline fueled frenzy as you swing helplessly at the mans arms and face.

Your lungs beg you for air, but you cant give it to them. You can't breath. Your swinging fists and kicking legs get weaker until you cant move. The world slides into nothing.

The last thing you see is the mans burning glare towards you. It will haunt you to the grave. Your face will be on the news. Another body to add to the list of casualties. You wont live to your eighteenth birthday, only a few weeks away...

Theres a knock on your door, you gaze through the peephole, no one there. You swing the door open, pick up your package and head inside. You didn't even see who they were. Part of you is grateful.


	3. Gunshots Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately these next two chapters are not made up. This event actually happened, for whatever reason i felt like i needed to say that i guess 
> 
> This one is gonna be way longer compared to the last one. I decide to split it into two parts cuz idk i just wanted to lol. It feels a lil easier to process when its split up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter will contain descriptions of thoughts of death and will primarily focus on the subject of school shootings. Imagery in this chapter will be reminiscent of flashbacks.

Your siblings were at your fathers house for the weekend, your mom at work. You were listening to Spotify when it happened. It only took a couple seconds for you to recognize the song and by then it was too late. You skipped the song as fast as you could but it didn't help.

You cant remember what time of year it was. You remember a cold sting in the air but you cant pinpoint when exactly it was. You do know that it was your freshman year of highschool, and adjusting had been difficult. You made a couple friends and kept a good one from middle school. It was lunch hour, you were coming from the art hallway chatting with your friend. The movement of people became a loud blur as people rushed down the hallway.

You and your friend followed the nearest flow only because you could barely process the gravity of what was happening. Just outside you could see kids hopping the fence. A teacher stopped you both before you had the chance to follow any further, looking back you have gratitude towards them even though their face is a blur. They lead you and your friend into the flow, you were all herded towards the gym. 

What was going on?? Confusion gave way to panic as it settled in on you that this was an emergency. You listened in on the voices around you in the hall, desperate for an explanation.

"Code red-"

The only thing you remember hearing. It was more than enough. It didn't seem real. It shouldn't have been real. You were supposed to be safe here. All those drills out of the blue rendered useless in a second. It was lunchtime, you weren't in class. The only place where procedures had purpose.

The gymnasium felt like a tomb. You sat with your friends in the farthest wall from the door. You joked around for a moment as if it where any other day but when you all looked to the doors on the other end of gym, knowing how bare and unprotected you all where, it seemed to settle in. You all hugged eachother and cried.


	4. Gunshot part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter will contain descriptions of thoughts of death and will primarily focus on the subject of school shootings. Imagery in this chapter will be reminiscent of flashbacks.

You where carted into your respective locker rooms because it still mattered what sex you where. You all where concerned with death but your peers where concerned with sex. You remember being huddled with your friends under the sink. You cant remember what anyone was saying, or if they were saying anything. It passed in a horrible blur. You stared at the wall across from you. 

You saw your life up until now, your family without you. Your brothers and sisters and-... your mom. You pulled out your phone. 10%. You texted her because it was all you could control. She was a nurse at the jail, her father a former sheriff. She'd know. She didn't but you still texted her. You needed her, now more than ever you needed her to distract you from death. But it didn't work.

What would it be like to die? What was beyond? You read once that a theory says that when you die you have a dream about your whole life. If this was how you died then you didn't want that. What about your family? You saw your younger brothers graduate from highschool, the same highschool where you now waited for your death. You saw your little sisters discover the world without you there to see it. Your heart grew heavy.

Time passes in a blur. You cant remember how long you sat there wondering what the world would become without you. At some point a teacher approached you under the sink and asks if you're okay, momentarily snapping you out of your stupor. You tell her you are, you hadn't realized you'd been giving the wall across from you a 1000 yard stare for the past... ten minutes??? It was more than that. You know it but you couldn’t pay attention enough to know.

The next thing you remember is standing outside the school building, crying. Your phone was dead, police cars surrounded the school. You cried because you couldn't talk to your mom. You needed her so badly it made your chest hurt. You wanted to hug her and feel her realness and know everything was okay. You borrowed somebody else's phone and called her. She couldn't come get you.

Your grandma takes you somewhere and the world passes into a blur so thick you cant even remember if you went home or not.

You're not there anymore. You're safe.

You sit on the couch at your house, three years after. You've graduated. You're safe but it wont leave you. And its the little things that take you back to that day. 

You'll never be safe from the aftermath.


	5. Wander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> Eating disorder, depression, suicide

The kitchen is the most quiet place in the afternoons. You can’t go up to your room, you need to look after your siblings. The sound of your brother playing games with his friends comes from the living room.

You matter to them. Right? They need you to stay. They do...

You’re better than them. You’re not like them. You’re not manipulative and you love them. They need you right?

Don’t you deserve better? Countless days spent staring at the bottles of melatonin and ibuprofen of the counter, mind wandering. You deserve to live right? Things will get better????

You know they won’t. You’ll be broken forever. The pieces are too small and scattered too far to piece together all the way. You need to accept that. You deserve not to eat, you’re flabby and out of shape anyways and someone as overweight as you are should be leaving more for the rest of them.

...

But you’re still a person.

You don’t deserve this.

Right...?


	6. Capsules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> Graphic depictions of suicide

You told them it was just intrusive thoughts. I guess thats not entirely a lie? You go downstairs.

The house is quiet. You walk into the kitchen.

There on the counter.

Its ironic really. Your prozac is sat right next to the melatonin and ibuprofen.

You dont want that, you know you dont. But the part of ypu thats telling you that you want it gets stronger all the time. You turn the bottle of painkillers around in your hand.

...

You dont wanna suffer anymore, you’re so tired. You’re so. Fucking. Tired.

You’re tired of hating every inch of your filthy skin and tired of the days spent in bed and tired of desperately ignoring the horrible fucking things you’ve gone through.

Because you have gone through horrible horrible things haven’t you? The world is against you in ever single fucking way so why should you give it any more of your time.

Why should you.

...

The redish pills bounce about in the container noisily.

You set it down and head to bed. Just push it aside. Ignore it till the next night comes and then fight it again.


	7. Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> Suicidal thoughts  
> Difficult family life  
> Abuse  
> Trauma

Im tired. 

Im tired of being tired.

Im tired of thinking about you. Of remembering how Little you truly loved me. Of how much i hate you. It sits in my stomach and festers, it makes me sick. I hate you more than words can physically describe. I want you to hurt. I want you to loose everything you love (if you even can love) because everything you have was achieved by destroying others. I bottle it. Because the harder i think about it the more it consumes me. But i cant hide it.

Im tired of hating you.

Im tired of wanting love.

Im tired of holding onto that frail image of you. Im tired of wanting the love you never had for me. It hurts so much. Im so scared i’ll never have it. Never. I’ll never be held. I’ll never be told “I love you.” And it hurts more than words can explain. I want a father. I want a father to tell me im alright. I want a father to love, simply because he does. I want a father to love me like a person and not like burden. I want it so bad my chest aches.

Im tired of wanting the love you never gave me. So, so tired.

Im tired of remembering. Those moments that stick in my mind. They fester and sting like open wounds. Always bleeding. I cant sleep at night. Im thinking about how it felt, knowing i would die. Knowing this was it. Waiting under the sink for death. Im thinking about the noise he made when you put your own son in a headlock. When my little sisters ran to me. I’m the oldest, i’d know what to do. But i didn't. I didn't do anything. It should’ve been me. 

Im tired of remembering

Im so, so, so exhausted. I feel it in my soul.

Im tired.


	8. I should have known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> Detailed mentions of abuse (physical and mental), nightmares, ptsd
> 
> Please read with caution  
> —

I really should’ve known. I should’ve known you didn't care. People like you can’t love. Not really.

It should’ve been obvious, but it wasn't.

Every time you told me it wasn't true. That even though i felt lost in your arms and suffocated by you- you said it wasn't your fault. I had plenty of love and it was never the way i though it was.

Every time you demanded to know, when you stole every secret. The deepest parts of my mind, everything i wanted to keep. Nothing was safe from you. You ripped everything from me, only to tell me i was wrong.

Every time the thought of you left a nauseating pit in my stomach. That the idea of speaking to you alone drained my energy.

Even when you hurt him. When you hurt my brother right infront of me. You pinned him down because he was arguing. He begged you to get up. He couldn't breathe.

Even when you put him in a headlock. He choked out desperate pleas for you to let him go. My little sisters clung to me, desperate for safety. Safety i didn't have. I was only 14. The oldest of six. I had no safety for them.

Even years later the flashbacks started. I had graduated, i was safe from you in body. Not in mind. 

Even when i was diagnosed with PTSD. As i slowly became more jittery and alert.

I thought... maybe you held some fatherly love and connection in that necrotic heart.

I was wrong.


End file.
